


The Once and Future Kingdom

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action Dueling, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Merlin (TV) Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Magic, Slow Burn Rey/Kylo Ren, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young woman, her name: ReyFifteen years after the Great War was fought and forgotten in ancient Alderaan, Rey of Jakku returns from a quest to earn her knighthood. But what she has seen during her journey will change her forever, confronting her understandings of truth, loyalty, and power. Moreover, a mysterious threat has been stirred, and Rey reckons that Kylo Ren, a ranger of the West, may be the key to their salvation or their downfall.





	1. The Drawing of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic! I've had a variety of inspirations, but BBC's Merlin has inspired me to infuse this Reylo story with some Arthurian legend. This fic is pretty unlike the show, so having watched it is not a necessary requisite, but the story will incorporate themes of magic and fear of magic, dragon/sword-lore, and some other inside jokes. Thanks for reading!

Exhaustion aches in her limbs, yet her mind is alert; a resolve already hardened in her. Except for two short pauses, she had spent the night traversing the midlands, effectively halving the remaining time it would take for her to reach the capital, Aldera.

Tonight, the celebration of War’s End will be commemorated there, marking fifteen years since an alliance of peace had been made between the nations of the Great War. Citizens and nobility of their neighboring kingdom’s subjects, The First Order, would be in the city tonight to take part in the festivities alongside Alderaan, as they did every year. Despite the glamour and the high spirits that would be there, Rey had no mind for them tonight.

Merely two weeks ago, she had been given a relatively straightforward quest to claim her knighthood: find Ahch-To, an island that, before the war, was a refuge to the seclusive and spiritual. Her instructions from the Queen were to find and retrieve her brother’s book collection among the ruins there, left in dust from long before his death.

What Rey did not expect to find was the heart of the island. When she had stood at the entrance to the dark cave, she had not anticipated such a deep-seated power there, nor her connection with it.

From a young age, she had always suspected that she had some supernatural power, but for her own safety she had long repressed it. In that cave, however, the strength of the visions she saw completely overpowered her attempts to resist it, to resist the person she feared she was.

This had complicated things, to say the least. Of the three visions she saw, Rey didn’t know in which order they were to pass, but a heavy certainty constricted itself in her chest - they would come to pass.

 _No, nothing is known for sure,_ Rey cedes to herself. That was three days ago, and a thick cloud of urgency prompted her to return to Aldera as soon as possible.To be at the capital would be to see the Queen and to reconcile these visions with some truth, a semblance of reality.

In this moment, a different priority rumbles in her stomach, stronger than her restlessness, reminding her how meager her last meal was.

 _One hour_ , she tells herself; she needs some time to find a proper meal.

 

_____

 

Before the dawn, cool mists spill from the edge of Alderaan’s southernmost mountain range. At their foothills, a great wall of fog unfurls itself over the base of the forests there, gently enshrouding the life within. Restfully still, the land is filled with the soft, vague light of near-morning. As the stars fade out, the woodland birds stir the air with their songs, and beneath their nests, a hunter crouches low to the earth, her every sense bent on her desire.

Rey, with still breaths, curls her fingers around the steel hilt of her throwing dagger as she watches a doe graze among the gorse bushes. _She doesn’t have much meat on her, but it will do,_ she notes, maintaining the tension in her limbs, awaiting for the release. She exhales slightly through her nose, eyes narrowed on the doe as it picks off the delicate yellow blossoms for its early meal.

Something else stirs up the damp leaves in the undergrowth, catching Rey’s attention. She turns her eyes to find a fawn wander tentatively over the forest ground, stumbling towards its mother. As its mother’s ears perk attentively, the fawn moves to nuzzle her reddish brown coat in search of its own meal.

Rey does not look away from the two. Seeing their wholeness, the ache in her gut intensifies, shifting from hunger to emptiness. They stand within the reach of her aim, reveling in the peaceful quiet of the world before dawn.

A few moments pass this way, Rey watching them pace delicately towards the clearing a stone’s throw ahead of her. She relaxes her firm position, lifting her body from the wet leaves and dirt to sit up against a fallen tree. Frustrated, she sheathes her knife before getting up and brushing off the lingering sensation of loneliness that had filled her just then.

 _Might as well get on with it and find something else,_ Rey thinks to herself, readjusting her belongings and trudging southward.

With a vague idea of her route, she turns her back on the clearing and wanders deeper into the woods. Hopefully she could find a vantage point of some sort; with some elevation she may be able to distinguish any nearby roads to Aldera.

The day light was coming, and it would aid the final hours of her journey to the city in the mountains. The sun was already beginning to brighten the sky, marking the scattered clouds above with vivid oranges and reds.

As she strides deliberately through the growth, Rey’s steps bring her to the stone skeleton of what must have been a strong-point during the war. Had she been less alert, Rey might have missed it.

The trees were tall there, creating a dense canopy high above her head. Their roots jutted up from the ground beneath the old floor work that lay there once, breaking its way through the stone, fracturing what was left of it.

 _The land has healed from the war,_  she runs a hand over the delicate ivy and wallflowers, _but how long can it last?_

Suddenly, the air drops to an unnatural coolness around her. A broad shadow sweeps over the treetops, immeasurably large, blackening the sky above. An immense, deafening rise in the wind resounds above and throughout the forest. Rey’s instincts, startled by the sudden onslaught on her senses, jump to one thought: _run._

Rey steers herself in a sprint towards the clearing. If possible, she could keep her cover on the outskirts there. Better yet, she might be able to use a break in the trees to see this threat, and strategize from there. As she runs, the roaring wind stops, and she fears she has missed her chance. She’s reached the clearing though, and the sun is rising; she still has a chance to identify it.

Assuming the lithe crouch of a hunter, Rey draws her sword, careful not to compromise her position. She hears the faint mewl of an animal, but nothing else. Taking her chances, Rey slowly peers out from her coverage to examine the clearing.

At first glance, it seems as if nothing has been disturbed. Rey isn’t even certain if there was an actual threat; what exactly did she expect to see?

_Deep breath. Something is still out there._

Then she notices the grass in the clearing, flattened to the ground, as if by some great gust. The mist has also been stirred. Great walls of it have been swept to the edges of the clearing, where they have started unfurling back to shin-depth fog. As it settles, glittering under the touch of the risen sun, Rey sees him, a dark figure bathed in reddish golden light.

The man in the clearing is kneeling, bent over something before him in the grass. Until he rises to his feet, Rey is unable to make out his features, only the general shape of his dark cloak and armour. When he stands, lifting the limp body of a doe onto his shoulders, Rey feels a cold, fearful desire to vanish, to no longer be there. He looks up from his task, and her eyes, stinging from sweat, lock onto his dark and menacing mask. _What are you?_


	2. Heights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! Enjoy :)

In the mountains, heat came too soon, it hung in the morning air like a threat. As noon approached, the trees seemed to cloak themselves in a protective air against the hot, arid wind that descended.

In those first long hours that Rey tracked the man, she would stop when he stopped, watching him shift uncomfortably under the menacing weight of his dark armor. In the first hour he made a meal of the doe he killed in the clearing, halting for no more than twenty minutes. In the next hour, the heat became unbearable, but he kept moving. Between the third and the fourth hour, she lost his tracks entirely, all traces vanishing abruptly.

That was thirty minutes ago; now she watches a bird flit about the parched ground, its brown feathers dusted with red bits of earth - questions prodding her mind. She should call it off - this whole diversion to find the man from the clearing. What is she looking for anyway?

Whatever had passed over the forest that morning posed a threat, but did she expect his help? Did she want him to answer questions her scrambling mind hadn’t even formed yet? No, Rey shivers again; this man is dangerous.

Knowing there’s no use in lingering on the issue, Rey keeps moving, each step hopefully closing the distance between her and Aldera.

Rey starts towards a steep incline of red earth and rock, tall evergreens barricading her path along the parched ground. Her footsteps fall back into easy steps, calculating the slope of the earth and the uneven ground. When she reaches the height of the hill, there isn’t any vantage point, only a dense thicket, and the thick smell of pine.

She’ll have to come up with something else if she wants to be able to reroute herself. It was too close to noon to distinguish east from west, but some height would help her to make out any nearby landmarks.

To her left, there’s a sturdy pine, the bottom branches just within reach. To climb it, she’ll need to remove some weight. First, she removes the dark blue cloak tied at her collar bones, followed by the bronze plating of her armor and sword.

She’s already slid the satchel bearing her books from her shoulder, having laid it gently on top of her cloak, but could she risk leaving it here? Hesitation weighs on the thought, but Rey shakes her head, mustering some confidence. There’s no one around, nor anyone who would be interested in these. She’ll also have a clear view of her belongings from above.

“ _Okay._ ” She says shakily, only slightly more convinced she can leave her things here. Additionally, it has been some time since she last climbed. After she jumps, gripping the branch by the edges of her fingers, she swings, hoisting the rest of herself up onto the first branch. So far so good. Now she keeps going, occasionally looking down to check the ground beneath her.

The sensation of climbing seeps back into her body, the exhilaration filling her limbs with a lightness. Another thirty feet up, and she can see bees at work near the top of one of the adjacent trees. Twenty more feet, having broken through the top of the canopy, she stops. Everything is tingling, but she secures herself with a calm and slow placement of her hands on the trunk and her feet on the ranch beneath, which creaks obstinately under the pressure of her weight.

The blue of the sky is barren of clouds, and the sun pierces Rey’s vision. She removes a hand from her grip on the tree to shield her eyes, careful to maintain her balance. The first thing she notices is a glittering body of water. Once she makes it out more clearly, she’s certain it’s the east bank of Lake Ahsoka, less than four miles away. Reassurance fills her, knowing Aldera lies on the south bank.

Closer, less than a mile, a faint column of smoke rises from what must be a camp. To the right of that, Rey marks a distinct line of absent trees, hoping it indicates one of the main roads. She can be home in less than an hour, if she moves quickly.

Moving her hand slowly back to the tree, Rey readjusts her left foot to the bough below.The branch beneath her right food snaps, cracking half way through, throwing her off. For a second, the magic in Rey’s veins flashes instinctively, transforming the color of her eyes to gold.

She doesn’t know any spells to stop gravity; she just falls through several branches, nettles whipping her neck and her face. The magic only buys her a moment’s time to catch herself, her fingers desperately clinging to the edge of a branch.

“Nngh” Rey grunts with strain, struggling to hoist herself up to no avail. Rey’s forces her erratic breathing into a calm, heavy rhythm, resetting herself to try again.

“Comfortable?” A deep voice calls below her, out of view.

Rey starts, startled by the sudden presence of someone else, but refocuses, determined not to let the stranger rattle her. “I’m fine, thank you,” she huffs, exasperated by his sarcasm.

“Ah. Clearly.” He says, amusement in his voice. She grunts again in another try at swinging herself, eyes screwed shut in exertion, but one hand slips. She can hear his feet shuffle over the ground, “You know,” he takes a couple of steps around to enter her periphery, just as she gets her grip back; “there are easier ways to track someone less conspicuously.”

“What?!” Still hanging, Rey’s eyes snap open, searching the forest floor within her view for the face to match the voice. Her eyes find the man in the dark armour, helmet rested between his arm and his side. His gaze is fixed on her quite nonchalantly, as if she wasn't dangling by her fingers, in danger of a thirty-foot drop. 

Her brow knits in frustration, agitated at his face, her humiliation, at her helplessness in the face of threat.

“So” he grabs the helmet by his left hand, setting it on a tree stump beside him, “are you going to tell me why you were following me?”

Teeth bared in effort, Rey’s usual practice in maintaining herself falters: “I’m a little busy at the moment!” she snaps. Her grip is becoming sweaty. She has no idea how to get out of this without giving away her powers.

“I have time.” He answers, an almost predatory expression of patience smoothing over his features.

“Go to hell.” she spits, without a glance in his direction, but it was a mistake: her last bit of effort spent on some sharp words, the tree limb slipping from her grasp. A nameless force pulls her through the air, and her vision blackens in an instant.


	3. A Lesson in Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Feel free to give any feedback! Hope you all enjoy :)

Curiosity is an insatiable motivator. Kylo had caught on to his pursuer after his meal that morning, but he could only guess at why she was tracking him. He let her follow him for a while longer, without any care to deviate from his original course.

He sensed, more than saw, her when she followed him. Later, when she slipped from the tree, he had almost no control over his own lips as they uttered a spell, rendering her weightless in the air.

He approached her floating body slowly, placing one arm under her upper back, almost reverently, and the other under her legs. An unsteady sigh leaves him; he doesn’t recognize the gentility in his limbs as he carriers her, how he guards the sway of his walk, careful not to jostle her.

As he passes the outskirts of the camp, the officers and soldiers stop disassembling tents to watch him narrowly. He sets his eyes ahead, ignoring them. Whispers trickle into a growing stream around him; hungrily trying to identify the stranger and the young woman lying unconscious in his arms.

Kylo makes his way through the field towards the central structure of the camp, an open tent shielding a couple of senior officers and some additional knights from the oppressive sun. They stand around papers on a table, deep in conversation, but one by one they look up, eyes boring into him.

His legs move heavily across the ground beneath; the tall blonde woman, the highest ranking of the accompaniment there, shifts her gaze from the papers beneath her fingers to him.

Her eyes rests on his face for a moment, then moves down to the girl, who, without her armour, doesn’t appear to be anyone of importance. Yet Kylo notes her brow quirk in slight recognition - she’s seen this girl before.

“Give us a moment.” She commands quietly. The space clears. Kylo lays the woman in his arms on the table as Phasma draws the edges of the tent curtains, closing off a small space of privacy for the three of them.

“Lieutenant Phasma,” he nods to her.

“It’s Captain, now.” She turns to face him, with a look that betrays some incredulity, some disbelief in his presence. “Kylo Ren.” Her jaw clenches. “When I heard you were alive, I hardly believed it. Although obviously,” her eyebrows raise at his large frame “it seems as if you weren’t executed after the war.”

“Yes, that much is clear, only exiled.” A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he swallows thickly. “Skywalker thought it better for the kingdom’s recovery if everyone believed I was dead.”

He keeps his voice level, barely pushing down the pain of it. Phasma tilts her head, unconvinced. “The world has forgotten you, Ren.” Phasma tilts her head at him, not entirely convinced. “You’re telling me there’s nothing more to it than that?”

Kylo looks away. Phasma may not have had magic, but she suspected the ease with which Kylo Ren disappeared from the kingdom’s recollection. How the features of his face, his very existence, fading from memories until even his name seemed erased.

The spell his uncle cast was powerful, powerful enough to distort memories so that they bore no semblance to their original form, yet there was some grip his life had on those closest to him during the war that magic could not shake as easily, including Phasma.

“Nothing more that’s important.” He bites his cheek, his words drawing a clear line in the conversation.

“Fine,” she cedes cooly, detecting his change in tone. She reaches for a stone pitcher on the table, pouring watered wine into two simple chalices, one of which she hands to him.

“The war is over, Ren.” She shrugs, taking a sip. “The First Order are fine with the way things are. Whatever you’re here for, I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

Kylo frowns, but this is only going as he expected. He knew the First Order encampment were only on their way to Aldera for the yearly celebrations, and he had originally planned not to be seen by anyone, from either side. “Understood,” he sets the chalice to his lips, thoughts flitting to the girl, and Phasma notices.

He places his cup down, his gaze brushes slowly over her hands, how they’re calloused.

“Ah yes, she’s one of Alderaan’s. I’ve seen her a couple of times in court.” Phasma murmurs into her glass. “Now, could you tell me what I am supposed to make of this?”

“She took a bad fall. I couldn’t just leave her.” He pauses. “Let her go with you to Aldera.”

Phasma examines him for a moment, weighing his intentions, and then the girl. “I don’t want this situation to be misconstrued.” She steps towards the wall of the tent, drawing back the curtain in a conclusive manner. “However, I will consider it.”

He takes her cue to leave, stepping towards her.

“The Queen’s representative will be here soon.” She says, just low enough for him to hear. “Be careful, Ren.”

He gives her warning a moment’s consideration, before brushing past her to leave, striding into the sunlit field.

 

 

* * *

 

Kylo retrieves his helmet, along with the girl’s items, and makes his way back to the camp. When he returns to the main tent, he checks inside to find it empty, but for the girl still lying on the table.

She breathes slow, calm breaths. Her brow is slightly creased, perhaps a trace of the somewhat stressed state he found her in. Something pulls in his gut, an urge to reach out his fingers and smooth away that crease. He clenches his fist, somewhat taken aback by that desire, foreign in its warmth.

He shakes his head, moving away from the thought, but then he looks to her neck. If she’s asleep much longer, she could use something as a rest. He hesitates, thinking against it, but discards his doubt for the simple gesture. Her blue cloak in his hand, he wraps it into a bundle, placing it under her head.

“Hmm.” The woman stirs at the slightest movement of his hand holding her at the base of her head. He stills, carefully stepping back, anticipating her awakening.

It was only a moment, she settles back into her stillness, and Kylo releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

The hot air in the tent becomes silent again, and Kylo takes the moment to use his magic. He whispers a spell, watching as his sight intersects the cooler and subtler colors of the space around him.

He detects a deep well within the girl, a well of what exactly he doesn’t know. There’s something else in the room.

He sees the satchel at the leg of the table, as the gold of magic fades from his eyes. Their contents shouldn’t concern him, but he feels a familiar gravity pulling him in. He reaches down, fingers brushing the leather overlap, when she wakes up.

“ _No_ ,” she registers the tent, his face, their closeness. She sits up abruptly before he sets his hands on her shoulders.

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.” An impulse clings to his words; he wanted to deserve her trust in this moment. She jerks herself away, but she’s calmed down a little bit. She opts to sit up, slowly turning her body to face him, feet brushing the ground lightly.

He lets the silence linger as she takes in her surroundings more thoroughly, evaluating the danger before she looks to him, jaw set firm.

“What do you want?” She asks coldy. He seems guarded in his stance, a contrast to the last times she encountered him, when he appeared more threatening.

“Last we talked,” his voice lowers. “I asked you first.” Rey considers his statement, wondering to herself how much to reveal. In him, the quiet urge to gain her trust reemerges.

“You hit your head when you fell, I brought you to the First Order’s camp.” He offers this as a slight reassurance. “They might be able to escort you to the capital.” Rey weighs this as well, although he doesn’t appear to be a First Order officer. Something else seems askew.

She tries to stand, her muscles uncertain below her, but Kylo catches her shoulders again. She tears away once more, rejecting his touch. “Stop, I’m fine.” She straightens up a little, if only to face him from a less demeaning angle. “I _saw_ you in the clearing... at dawn.”

“And at the tree…” her eyes meet his, reclaiming her courage. “There’s nothing wrong with my head. I know magic when I see it, when I _feel_ it.”

Kylo’s mouth turns dry, her perception cutting. She’s seen too much, but he guesses that she doesn't know what would truly implicate him. _No, she didn’t see the worst of it, then._

He levels her with a dark glare, his words laced with warning. “You’re not as smart as you think you are. If you knew what was best for you -” Phasma enters the tent, breaking off Kylo’s threat. Her presence lends an ambiguous familiarity, and in it a small comfort, to Rey.

Phasma grabs Kylo’s forearm, an urgency lying beneath her grip. “Ren. I meant it: you’re on your own.” She whispers, quick and quiet. “You need to leave, _now_.”

Rey watches, unaware of the words exchanged, as Kylo exits swiftly. A rush of stifling air mixes with the coolness within the tent; other soldiers approach, First Order members wearing an air of officiality.

“Rey, is it?” Phasma asks, to which Rey returns a curt nod. “Good. Follow me.”

Taking a brief moment to gather her belongings, Rey checks to ensure that the books are still there. After a minute, the two women walk through the field. Phasma, her face a composure of calm, disciplined lines, focuses straight ahead on the vague outline of a company at the end of the clearing, distorted by waves of heat rising off the grass. Among them, red banners hang still in the hot air - the flags of Alderaan.

Without looking at her, Phasma speaks. “I trust that he did not give you any trouble.” Internally, Rey huffs at that, but doesn’t show it. Phasma accepts her silence, offering her a small courtesy. “You may travel with our company; we leave immediately, if you’re well enough. That over there is the Queen’s welcoming party.”

“Yes - I am well enough.” She doesn’t acknowledge Phasma’s introduction; she herself had been a member of the welcoming group for a couple of years, escorting the First Order to Aldera.

“And thank you, I would be grateful,” Rey continues, eyes also set ahead. Phasma doesn’t answer, their words kept to a minimum. As they approach, the heat waves rising from the grass no longer obscure the group; Rey even spots a few familiar faces among those on horseback.

They stop beside Phasma’s steed, a tall horse of shimmering silver hide, without dapple or excessive tack. The Captain hoists herself up effortlessly. Standing beside her, a question prods Rey, and she gives in to its weight.

“Captain Phasma,” she clears her words of begging, but she knows her eyes will show she is pleading. “The man who brought me here - who is he?”

Phasma assesses her for a moment; Rey resists the instinct to shift under the woman's intensity. The woman grasps the reigns of her horse tighter, looking Rey in the eye. “He’s a ranger of the West, as far as I know. Beyond Takodana, perhaps. He isn’t one of ours.”

Phasma measures her words precisely, digging through the more reliable rumors that she’s heard: the least she can do is offer this girl some clarity, but not at the risk of suspicion.

Rey recognizes the finality in Phasma’s voice, accepting it quietly. From there, Phasma’s steed paces ahead, the rest of the First Order company trailing behind in a short line of wagons, carts, and horses.

Her feet carry her forward, the quell of the sky above and land beneath her subsuming her senses.


End file.
